


30. Tail

by kaziandra, TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Series: Twinkstober 2020 [30]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feminization, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Kinktober, M/M, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Professor Jaskier | Dandelion, Sex Shop, Slut as an endearment, Tails, Timeline What Timeline, jaskier is a kinky bitch, now with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaziandra/pseuds/kaziandra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Twinkstober 2020Prompt: tailJaskier goes shopping, and Geralt is in for a surprise.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Twinkstober 2020 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923553
Comments: 27
Kudos: 412





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Matilda with all my heart, and we all know Oxenfurt is where you go for the freaky stuff.

He finds it during one of their winters apart.

Jaskier is in Oxenfurt, teaching for the season. It's not his favourite activity in the world, but the pay is good and the lodgings are more than acceptable, so he accepts the offer every other year or so.

Anyway, he's in Oxenfurt, and in one of the less respectable areas of the city. He knows it like the back of his hand, which really doesn't surprise anyone who knows him.

Well.

Geralt might be a little surprised, were he to find out. Not that he doesn't know about Jaskier's almost complete lack of restraint when it comes to things one can do in the bedroom (or alley, or clearing, or abandoned building, or... you get the picture), but despite fucking like rabbits for a couple of years now any time they meet, they have made do entirely _au natural_. Cocks and hands and mouths and bums, and it's all lovely, really. Geralt is a fantastic lover.

It's just... Jaskier kind of misses this, he thinks as he slips into the shop he had been looking for, letting his gaze sweep over the wares. He immediately spots a couple of things he is _extremely_ tempted by - a metal contraption that holds the wearer's mouth open, a wooden phallus with a delicious curve, a ludicrously expensive oil that promises to in turn heat up and cool down during use - but he is here on a mission.

Because unsurprisingly, Geralt is... rather well endowed, and preparing Jaskier to take him takes a while, and _sometimes_ a man just wants to bend over at the side of the road and take his lover's unreasonably big cock on a whim. It's only natural. Hence this shopping trip.

The shop's owner, Matilda, comes out behind the counter to greet him with air kisses. "Julian! How are you, my love? I haven't seen you in an age!"

He hugs her, ignoring her air kisses and pressing a real one to her cheek; she giggles. "Ah, you know how it is, Tilda, no rest for the wicked."

"That Witcher of yours keeping you busy, is he?" She grins at him, grabbing him by the waist and grinding her hips against him in an exaggerated manner. Jaskier has to laugh.

"With that, among other things. Which, as you can probably guess, is the reason for my visit." He looks around. "You see, he's a rather _large_ man, if you catch my drift," he says, knowing Matilda would rather die than spread rumours about her customers, "and sometimes one likes to be a bit spontaneous, right?"

She nods her understanding. "I had one like that once. Felt phenomenal once you got around to it, but the build-up got tedious quickly, if I'm to be honest." She pats his waist. "Come on, love, I have just the thing."

Matilda leads him to the back of the shop, and Jaskier's mouth waters. There's an entire shelf filled with plugs, of every shape and size, and he doesn't know where to look first. "Tilda, these are _exquisite_ ," he breathes, and she laughs, smug.

"Knew you'd like them. Take your time," and she kisses his cheek softly before leaving him to it.

Jaskier stands before the shelf, his heart thumping in his chest. He can't possibly pick! There's wooden ones, finely sanded so they feel as smooth as silk; ones made of stone, the weight of them sure to feel divine; a couple made of jade, glittering sinfully in the lamp light.

Then there are the metal ones, gleaming coldly. Before he knows what he's doing, he has picked one up, weighing it in his hand. It _is_ cold, but it warms quickly against his skin, and Jaskier licks his lips. He puts it back, then looks down the line.

There it is.

"Tilda, my dear, I would like to make a purchase!"

* * *

When spring rolls around again, Jaskier is a nervous wreck. The spring equinox draws near, and that is usually the time Geralt arrives in the city to pick him up. Jaskier thought about wearing his surprise all the time to be prepared but he abandoned that idea quickly. It's just not practical when he has to sit at his desk all day grading papers.

Instead he has paid a pretty penny to the guards of the city, ensuring they'll send someone to inform him as soon as the Witcher approaches. They probably all think it's so he can get the hell out of Oxenfurt to save himself from the mutant's wrath. Let them cling to their misguided ideas, at least in this case.

A week and a half before the equinox, Jaskier is in his office, losing his will to live over a stack of essays a class of first year students produced. He's close to tears at how bad they are for the most part.

"Children, uncultured, overconfident _children_ the lot of them," he mutters to himself as he underlines a particularly surprising bit of stupidity in red ink.

There's a knock on the door, and he groans, unsure if he's grateful for the distraction or annoyed because now he'll have to waste more of his evening on this.

"Come in!"

A city guard enters, raps two knuckles against his helmet. "Begging your pardon, professor, just came to inform you the Witcher is coming. Want us to send him the other way?" The man actually looks slightly concerned, although Jaskier doesn't know if it's because he worries for Jaskier's safety or his own at the prospect of having to tell a Witcher no.

Jaskier digs a couple of loose coins out of his pocket. "No, no, my good man, it's fine, thank you ever so much." He presses the money into the man's hand, smiling brightly. "I can handle it."

The guard inclines his head even though he still looks dubious, then he leaves. Jaskier leans back against the door, his breath leaving him in a rush.

" _Right_."

He has everything he needs here, and so, after locking the door, he shrugs out of his professor's robe, draping it over his chair. Next he unbuttons his trousers before he picks up the satchel he keeps in a drawer of his desk. Inside is a bottle of intimate oil and his plug. Jaskier draws a shuddering breath and drops his trousers.

Half an hour later there's another knock on his door, and Jaskier almost jumps out of his skin. He stops his nervous pacing, essays long abandoned and shoved into a drawer, and all but leaps for the door, wrenching it open.

Geralt looks surprised but then he smiles, his tiny, soft smile reserved for Jaskier, and the bard thinks his heart is going to burst out of his chest. "Hey," Geralt says, voice like gravel, and Jaskier clenches around his plug.

"Hey," he replies in all his eloquence, then he grabs Geralt by the collar of his chest plate and pulls him into the room, throwing the door shut behind him.

They crash into each other with all the desperation months of separation warrant, their kiss more teeth than lips, and Geralt crowds him against the desk, hands at his hips, and then the Witcher lifts him up and deposits him on the table top. Jaskier yelps, half surprise, half pain, and Geralt pulls back immediately, concern etched between his brows.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Jaskier laughs breathlessly, shifting his weight onto one arse cheek. "No, no, I'm fine, it's just-" He clears his throat. "I have a surprise for you. I was going to wait until we got to my rooms, but..." He looks at the Witcher from below his lashes, smiling coquettishly. "Lock the door?"

Geralt looks dubious for half a second, then he crosses the room in a few quick strides and slides the lock into place.

Jaskier licks his lips, heat blooming in his cheeks. "Stay," he breathes, and Geralt gives him A Look, but obeys. With a deep breath, Jaskier hops off the desk and turns around. He shrugs off his doublet, and his trousers are unbuttoned quickly, and with another breath, he pushes them down.

For a long, long moment, the room is quiet. Geralt doesn't say anything, doesn't move, and Jaskier is suddenly awfully certain he has made a _huge_ mistake. Blood rushes to his face, shame sitting hot in his chest.

Then Geralt asks, "What is that," in that particular tone of voice that makes goosebumps prickle all over Jaskier's skin, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Fur brushes softly against the inside of his thigh.

"What does it look like, darling," he asks, barely loud enough to hear. Geralt's armor creaks behind him.

"It looks like a _tail_." Jaskier grins and, daringly, shakes his hips ever so slightly. Behind him, Geralt makes an odd choking noise.

"It _is_ a tail," Jaskier says, then leans forward and braces his hands on the desk. Like that, he is more fully on display, and he chances a look back over his shoulder. Geralt's hands are tightened into fists, his lips slightly parted, and his eyes dark. Heat rushes through the bard at the sight. "Eskel called me little fox last time I wintered with you," he says, and Geralt's eyes snap up to stare at him, "and when I saw this, I _had_ to have it."

Geralt twitches, as if he barely stops himself from rushing over, and Jaskier nods. A second later, the Witcher's hands are on his arse, spreading his cheeks. "Jaskier," he groans, and the bard shivers.

"I bought it for you, my love," he breathes as Geralt slides his thumbs towards his hole, tugging at the rim carefully. "So you can just bend me over and fuck me whenever you feel like it, and we don't have to waste time getting me open."

Geralt makes that same choking sound again. Then one of his hands lets go, and a second later there's a careful tug on the plug. Jaskier gasps, and when he looks back, Geralt is holding the tail in one hand, eyes fixed on Jaskier's hole. The tug turns into more of a pull, and Jaskier groans.

"Do you like it?" He's trembling, his cock hard and heavy between his legs, and when Geralt's fingers dig harder into the meat of his arse, he moans and tips forward a bit more.

"Yes," Geralt says, voice low and hoarse, and then he keeps pulling. Jaskier whines as he opens around the plug. Out is always more of a challenge than in, oddly. " _Fuck_ , Jask, how long-"

He chuckles breathlessly. "Not long. I paid off some guards to let me know you were coming."

Geralt lets go of the tail, instead pushing the plug back in, deeper than before, and Jaskier arches his back and yelps. Geralt drapes himself over the bard's back, breath hot against his throat and cheek. "So you could get your hungry little hole ready for me?"

Jaskier keens, shivers. Fluid leaks from the tip of his cock, sliding down the shaft slowly. " _Yes_ ," he gasps as Geralt grasps the loop the tail is attached to and pulls it back slowly before fucking it into Jaskier again. "Gods, I missed you so much," Jaskier moans, and Geralt kisses his jaw.

"Missed you, too," he murmurs, then picks up the tail and gently slides the tip of it along the small of Jaskier's back; it tickles, and he squirms. "My little fox," Geralt adds, and Jaskier's arms shake.

"Please," he gasps, "please fuck me, Geralt, it's been _so long_."

"Hm," the Witcher says, then takes hold of the loop again. Pulls, pushes in again, opening Jaskier more and more with every back and forth, and all Jaskier can do is moan and hang on. "Look so good like this," Geralt says softly, leaning back so he can watch. "Wet and desperate for my cock."

"Fuck, Geralt," Jaskier moans, "please don't make me wait, I _need_ it."

"Proving my point for me," Geralt says smugly, then pulls harder on the plug. Jaskier's nails dig into his palms as he tries to relax; the biggest part of the plug is nothing to scoff at. Geralt growls when he sees how wide it is, and Jaskier makes a high-pitched noise that turns into a sigh as the rest of the plug slides free. " _Fuck_."

"Yes, yes, please," Jaskier mumbles, collapsing onto his front on the desk. He, very wisely, had put all of his little knickknacks away in time to give them room, just in case.

"Oil," Geralt growls, and Jaskier waves a rubbery hand in the direction of his discarded doublet. The Witcher puts the plug down on the desk next to Jaskier's head; the white hairs in the tail glimmer in the sunlight streaming through the window.

When Geralt returns, he pushes two oil-slick fingers into Jaskier without preamble, and Jaskier moans, pushing back against his hand.

"You're so open," Geralt breathes, as though awed, and pushes in a third finger quickly. Jaskier pants - the stretch is bearable but still a lot, just because it's Geralt and his heat and he knows that he's about to get fucked into this table.

"I can wear it on the road," he murmurs, tilting his hips back. "You can put oil inside me and plug me up, and then when you want to fuck me, you just have to pull it out and I'll be ready." He gasps as Geralt moves his fingers, stretches him further. "So wet and ready for you, like a woman."

Geralt's fingers inside him spasm, and he grabs hold of Jaskier's hip with a grip that is almost certainly going to leave bruises. " _Jaskier_."

"Do you like that idea, my love? Pulling my breeches down at the side of the road and fucking into my hot," he clenches around Geralt's fingers, "wet," pushes back against his hand, "cunt?"

The Witcher wrenches his fingers free, making Jaskier jerk and hiss, and he can hear him fumble with the buttons of his leather trousers. A moment later, Geralt pushes into him and Jaskier scrambles for the edge of the desk, mouth falling open. "Gods, Jaskier," Geralt moans as he fucks into him with short, sharp thrusts until he's buried to the hilt, "you and your mouth will be the death of me."

"Oh, but what a way to go," Jaskier gasps in between thrusts. He tilts his hips up as best he can in this position, with Geralt holding him in place. "Fuck, I want to live on your cock, darling, it's so good, truly a gift from the gods."

Geralt snorts, then curls over him, teeth tugging at his earlobe. "Sounds like something a slut would say," he says, and Jaskier moans.

"Didn't you hear? I _am_ a slut, all of Oxenfurt knows this to be true." He clenches around Geralt, drawing a hiss from him. "But they all know I'm _your_ slut," he adds.

"Gods," Geralt groans, then rights himself again and starts properly fucking Jaskier. Every thrust punches a grunt out of him, the edge of the desk digs into his thighs and his cock bumps into the wood over and over, and it's so fucking perfect.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps after one particularly vicious thrust, and Geralt adjusts his angle. Jaskier sees stars.

"Are you going to come on my cock, Jask?" He's really putting his back into it now, and all Jaskier can do is hold on. "Gonna come from having your little cunt fucked?"

Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut. The moan that falls from his lips is absolutely filthy and far too loud, considering where they are, and he doesn't give a single fuck. "Yes, yes, fuck, fuck my cunt, make me come on your thick cock, please, Geralt, gah-"

Geralt growls and slides one hand down, teases at Jaskier's rim with a thumb. "Such a hungry, slutty hole." He pushes gently, and Jaskier mewls, arching his back. "Such a pretty pink cunt."

"Fuck, Geralt, I'm gonna-"

"You're so good, Jaskier, feel so good. Come on. Be a _good girl_ for me and come."

Jaskier's vision whites out, and he buries his face in the crook of his arm and screams into it as he comes untouched, painting the really quite expensive wood of his desk white. Geralt keeps going, muttering curses as he chases his own release, and Jaskier can feel his cock twitching inside him as he groans, hands tight on Jaskier's hips.

They stay like that, panting harshly, until Jaskier peels his sweaty face off of the desk. "That," he says breathlessly, "was phenomenal."

Geralt chuckles and curls around him, kissing his cheek. "I concur." He nuzzles his throat gently. "You alright? Not too much with the... calling you a girl?"

"Geralt, dear heart, I just came so hard I think I passed out for a second there." He tilts his head as far as he can and presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth. "It was _perfect_. Thank you for playing along."

Geralt hums and squeezes his hips affectionately. "I liked it," he says quietly, "quite a lot."

Jaskier snorts a laugh. "I noticed."

The Witcher rights himself again, stroking gentle hands over the globes of Jaskier's arse. He's quiet for a long moment, watching his cock buried deep in Jaskier, the way the rim twitches around him every now and again. Then he says, "Hand me the tail, little vixen?"

 _Fuck_ , Jaskier thinks, a hot flush rising on his cheeks. Then he reaches for the plug.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the privilege of commissioning [Cali](https://twitter.com/itscaliandra?s=09) to create artwork for this story and I'm so fucking happy with how it turned out! Cali's work is beautiful and you should definitely check it out!

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/formerly_as_g?s=09)!


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